The Dummy
by Torres-Rio
Summary: Definition: Dummy (noun); a large model of a human e.g. a ventriloquist's dummy. Informal; a stupid or silly person. Draco gets his revenge. Sequel to 'The Sucker'.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Or any of his friends.**

 **A/N: It's been a long, long time and I REALLY wasn't going to do it, but the plot bunnies wouldn't leave me alone! Enjoy! Also, I apologise if the formatting has gone all dodgy. I did try. For hours. -.-  
Warnings: Boyxboy! Draco loving Harry. Harry loving Draco. Kissing, snuggling, Harry's dirty mind and dirty mouth.  
Summary: Dummy (noun); a large model of a human e.g. a ventriloquist's dummy. Informal; a stupid or silly person. Draco gets his revenge.**

* * *

 **The Dummy**

* * *

 **Care of Magical Creatures**

* * *

"And then," Harry purred, green eyes darkened with arousal and breath heavy with want. "Once you've come, warm and wet all over your own stomach, I'm going to slide down between your gorgeous thighs and carefully lick you clean."

Draco paused from where he'd been bending down to pick up some sort of fluffy creature from the box provided and turned around slowly, eyes wide and cheeks pink. He stared at Harry for barely a second before someone cleared their throat behind the bespectacled boy and startled the pair.

Harry turned on the spot to look at Hermione Granger and the rest of his classmates. He quirked up one dark eyebrow in question.

"Yeah, 'Mione?" He tilted his head. "Did you say something?"

"No," Hermione spoke softly, voice curious. "But _you_ did."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion as raucous laughter erupted from several students. He frowned and turned back to Draco who still looked as though he'd just been slapped and shook his head slowly.

"No I didn't," he said, beyond bewildered at this point. "I was just waiting in line to get my..." he turned back to Draco and the box and pointed, "fluffy thing."

"Is that your pet name for him?" Seamus Finnigan winked and more laughter burst forth.

Harry ground his teeth, seriously beginning to get pissed off now. He turned back to the others and threw his hands up in surrender.

"Clearly I'm missing something here," he snapped. "Can someone please let me in on the joke?"

He turned to Ron, hoping to share his look of bewilderment but the ginger boy was looking anywhere but at him. He frowned.

"Let's just go over here, shall we?" Hermione smiled kindly. She took his arm and led him away from the others, gently steering him until they stood around the other side of Hagrid's hut and out of view.

Harry slumped back against the wood moodily, a muscle in his jaw twitching as Hermione continued to watch him with an almost fretful expression.

"You really can't remember what you said?" She asked carefully and Harry growled in irritation.

"I didn't say anything!" He answered back. " _You_ were the one who cleared your throat and so I turned around!"

Hermione's frown deepened a little before a light appeared in her eyes. "And what were you _thinking_ about?" she asked and Harry flushed all the way to the collar of his shirt.

"What? Er… I can't remember, really… Er… When?"

The frizzy-haired girl's eyes softened and she reached out to place a tentative hand on Harry's arm.

"Oh, Harry," she muttered, voice full of sympathy. "I think you're speaking your thoughts _aloud_."

Harry's eyes widened and the flush on his cheeks darkened.

"I… What? No!" He shook his head. "They… I… Maybe just _you_ can just hear my thoughts?" He paused for a hopeful second. "Right?"

"But everyone heard you say it, Harry." Hermione pointed out bluntly, her voice suddenly becoming thoughtful. "Although it's not happening now… Hmmm, so maybe it only happens when you're thinking of something sexual?"

"Sexual!" Harry cried, cheeks almost burning now. "What exactly did I say 'Mione?"

Hermione blinked owlishly for a moment before offering a tentative smile. She patted the back of his hand reassuringly. "What's most important here is to work out _how_ this happened, Harry-"

"No!" Harry's growl cut her off. " _What did I say, 'Mione_?"

"Oh trust me," Draco drawled as he walked over, hands in his robes pockets and a lecherous smirk touching his lips. "It wouldn't do for such an innocent as Granger to repeat your filthy, filthy thoughts, Potter."

Harry's eyes narrowed. The dark blush receding as a look of recognition washed over his face.

"You," he growled.

Draco grinned; the blond looking far too pleased with himself.

"Oh come on," Draco purred. "It's just a little pay back for the lollipop incident. A dummy spell for a sucker, shall we say. You were right, Potter. That book does have some very… Interesting ideas."

"Book?" Hermione's brightened eyes turned to Harry but the dark-haired boy didn't seem to be paying any attention to her.

"You bastard," he snapped and Draco preened.

"Now, now Potter," the blond rolled his eyes, stepping forwards again until he could curl his arms around Harry's waist. "You know full well that my parents were married when I was conceived."

Harry clenched his jaw again, his pulse thudding heavily in the side of his neck. Draco pouted playfully and lifted a long-fingered hand to stroke along the barely-there stubble on Harry's jaw.

"Granger," he drawled. "Could you give us a minute?"

Hermione bit her lip but nodded, casting a wary glance at Malfoy before she walked away, her fluffy hair flying every which way as she occasionally turned back to look at the couple. As soon as she was out of sight, however, Harry slumped back, wrapped his own arms around the lithe blond and pulled him close.

"How long does this last?" he asked finally, resignedly.

"The whole day," Draco's grin was shark-like. "So keep those thoughts squeaky clean, Potter."

* * *

 **History of Magic**

* * *

"Oh come on, Ron," Harry murmured, ignoring the dirty look Hermione shot him for talking in class. "It's not like you haven't said anything you regret before."

Ron continued to stare at the head of the class. Ever since Harry's slightly unfortunate outburst in the middle of Care of Magical Creatures, his best friend had refused to make eye-contact with him and Harry couldn't help but feel a little hurt.

When Harry had pulled the 'lollipop incident' in front of the entire school and had not only outed him and Draco as gay, but _also_ as a couple, Ron had been surprisingly okay about it all after he'd woken up from passing out. He'd given Harry the same look he did when he'd eaten an earwax-flavoured Bertie Botts' bean and shrugged one shoulder with a grunt.

"It's your life, Harry," he'd muttered. "To each their own and all that."

He'd paused, scowled a little. "But he better not hurt you. I mean it. 'Mione'll probably get to him first and knock him out before I could ever do anything, but warn him about me anyway, just so he knows all right?"

Harry had laughed. Relief flushing through him like pleasure. He'd known that 'Mione would be fine with pretty much anything he did, not excluding murder as long as he didn't get himself excluded in the process. But having Ron's acceptance was as satisfying as taking a bite out of a slice of treacle tart still warm from the oven.

"It's all a spell," Harry continued now, trying to at least get the ginger boy to meet his eye. "It makes me say these ridiculous things whenever I'm thinking about—"

"I don't want to hear it!" Ron balked; his voice loud in the near silent room and startling several students out of their midday naps.

"Shhhhh!" Hermione hissed. Ron raised his hand in apology.

"You said you were okay with this," Harry pointed out as the ginger boy flinched, ears red. "But I'm guessing you still have some problems with this? I don't… I know it's hard for you to hear, but I do actually love him."

" _That's_ not the hard part," Ron grimaced, turned a little green. _"Difficult_ part to hear," he amended.

"Sounds to me like he just doesn't like the fact you're getting laid, mate," Seamus giggled girlishly from in front of them. "Perhaps he's just bitter because _his_ lady friend won't put out," he turned around to wiggle his eyebrows at the pair before schooling his features into an expression of utmost concentration. "What's that you've written about Gideon the Guileless, Hermione?"

The girl sent him a withering look.

Ron rolled his eyes and looked at Harry before diverting his gaze again to the front of the class.

"I'm glad you're happy," the ginger boy continued. "You know I am. It's just that, he's… You know…"

"A boy?" Harry questioned.

"A sexy boy," Draco drawled from Harry's other side.

"A _pretty_ boy," Seamus corrected with a smirk.

"It's just that he's Malfoy!" Ron finally snapped and Draco choked from where he sat.

"Oh, it's all coming out now!" The blond seethed, leaning over to wrap his arm around Harry's shoulders; to nuzzle his retroussé nose into the curve of Harry's jaw. "Obviously Potter would pick me, Weasley. Who else is he going to choose? You?"

Ron finally pulled his gaze from the front of the class to give the blond a weary look.

"Yeah," he deadpanned. "That's it. I'm jealous because I'm secretly gay and I can't have him."

"Well that's just too bad, Weasel-face," Draco said. "He's mine." He tilted the dark-haired boy's face his way. "And besides, you'd never have the balls to tell him when he's being a bad, bad boy."

"I'll bet," Seamus panted, eyes glistening as he struggled to turn all the way around in his chair. Draco wrinkled his nose.

"I'm just saying that there are plenty of boys out there apart from the ferret to canoodle with," Ron shrugged finally.

Harry ducked his head, shoulders shaking with laughter as he whispered, "canoodle?" but the ginger boy had turned away again and steadfastly refused to take his eyes from the front of the class; the red flush that had started to disappear now making a full comeback as it crawled up from his shirt collar.

Draco pouted forlornly, pressed a kiss against Harry's jaw.

"Let's face it Harry, the Weasel King is never going to be ha—"

"You're so gorgeous," Harry interrupted, eyes falling to half-lidded as he tilted his chin up to rub his mouth against Draco's cheek, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "Especially when you're on top of me; soft skin glistening with sweat and hard against your stomach as you ride me, your eyes like melted silver pools. Mewling like a kitten from having me inside you. I'm so lucky to have been your first."

Silence, apart from Professor Binns' droning voice followed the statement and then Seamus roared with laughter.

"Merlin, help me," Draco turned pink. "I thought this was supposed to humiliate you, not me."

"What's that?" Harry blinked, lucidity returning to those forest green eyes. "What did you say?"

"Well _you_ said—" Seamus' maniacal grin disappeared behind Dean Thomas' hand. The other boy sending the others an apologetic look before he pulled the Irish boy around to sit properly in his seat with a muttered "shut up!"

"Bloody hell," Harry turned quickly towards Ron to see his best friend green-faced beneath his freckles, the rest of the class' expressions mixed between horror and fascination. He let his eyes fall closed. "I did it again, didn't I?"

"Indeed," Draco said, eyebrows raised. "And although I'm flattered—"

"That's it!" Hermione suddenly snarled, standing up out of her seat so quickly it tipped backwards. "Seamus, grow up! Ron, so you're best friend is with Malfoy; deal with it! Harry, just… Just _stop_ thinking about Malfoy! And Malfoy! Stop baiting Harry for Merlin's sake!"

Harry froze; his mouth slightly agape until Draco tucked a hand beneath his jaw and helpfully clicked it closed.

"Miss Granger," Professor Binns' monotone echoed through the room. "Is there anything else you'd like to share with the class?"

"Me?" Hermione jolted, looking like a Crup caught in the beam of an especially bright Lumos. "I-I… No, professor. Sorry. I just—"

"Well, if you wouldn't mind stepping outside so then we can talk about this at the end of class?"

"What?" The frizzy-haired girl said, twitched. "Oh, but professor, no— I can't— I—"

"Miss Granger," Professor Binns repeated again and Hermione's expression darkened. She turned back towards the gaggle of now silent boys, her eyes slits.

"I hope you're all happy!"

She brushed all her belongings into the cradle of her arms and with a scathing look at Ron, she flounced out of the room, stomping the entire way.

"What did I do?" Ron cried.

Harry bit his lip to hold back his laughter as he laid a consoling hand on his friends arm. Draco tucked his head beneath his boyfriend's chin, silently vibrating with laughter. Seamus just chuckled out loud and kicked his legs up onto his desk in front. He tilted his head back to look at the ginger boy upside down.

"Women," he sympathised.

* * *

 **Charms  
**

* * *

"Oh, excellent!" Flitwick's voice rang through the room, his beady eyes fixed on a slightly pink Pansy Parkinson as she lowered a huge oak desk heavy with books and precariously perched lit candles to the floor with her wand. "Miss Parkinson, you truly are a marvel at advanced levitation Charms! Now, Mr. Potter, if you could please come up to the front."

Luckily, the rest of History of Magic had passed without a glitch once Harry had slumped down into his chair and decided to actually take notes. It had nothing to do with him feeling guilty about partially being the reason that Hermione had been sent out, he told himself. It was just a good time to focus on his work.

He also tried not to acknowledge the hurt that swelled in his chest when Hermione had snorted at his chicken-scratch handwriting after class and told him he could keep his notes and that she'd make do without. It's not like he'd written them out for her anyway…

But now, in Charms, the dark-haired boy started at the sound of his name. His eyes wide as they swivelled towards Draco on his left and then Hermione on his right, feeling a swell of warmth at the bushy-haired girl's equal expression of alarm.

"He can't!" She cried, shrinking in her chair a little as several pairs of eyes swung in her direction. "I mean, um, Harry's not feeling well today, Professor… He's quite… er… He's quite erm… _Un_ well."

"Oh," Flitwick looked crestfallen. "It isn't anything too serious, I hope?"

"Not at all, Professor," Finnigan grinned from behind. "He's just got a case of Blue balls, sir!"

"Oh dear!" Flitwick muttered amongst the laughter. "I see… Right, hmm…" He looked towards Harry apprehensively. "You are dating Mr. Malfoy, correct?"

Harry felt colour burn his cheeks at the giggles that erupted.

"This is not happening," He murmured, eyes on his desk as Draco practically doubled over in hysterical laughter beside him. "Flitwick did not just imply that I should have sex with you."

"It's _Professor_ Flitwick, Harry," Hermione corrected in a hiss although she looked more than mortified herself.

Harry ignored her.

"It's a spell, sir," Hermione explained. "Harry just… He thinks what he's saying… I mean, says what he's thinking… But he's… He's not really aware he's doing it?"

Flitwick paused for a second as though he was trying to work out a cure.

"Would you perhaps like to visit the Hospital wing then, Mr. Potter?" He asked instead and Harry's eyes snapped up immediately.

"Yes," he muttered almost desperately, standing and almost tripping over his own feet. "If I could… Please… I'll get the notes from 'Mione, professor, thank you."

"And perhaps you'd like Mr. Malfoy to escort you?" Flitwick smiled knowingly.

"No!" Harry interrupted, eyes snapping to his blond boyfriend and meeting laughing silver before warmth flooded through him. "The last time we were alone in the hospital wing, I couldn't keep my hands off him. His mouth is… Merlin, his mouth is criminal. Especially his tongue and when he presses the tip of it right into the tip of my—"

"I'll go!" Hermione stood sharply, pushing both hers and Harry's rolls of parchment and ink wells and quills into Harry's arms and locating her bag. "I'll take him, Professor, thank you!"

Harry blinked, seemingly coming back to himself as he took in Hermione's knowing look.

"Right," he said. "Right, er… Thank you, Professor."

Flitwick smiled, calling out a jolly, "Get better soon!" as the two fled and Harry closed his eyes.

It took everything in him at that moment not to conjure a black hole and throw himself into it.

* * *

"Nope," Harry mumbled, voice distorted from the starchy clean pillow his face was currently planted in. "I'm not going."

Thankfully, Madame Pomfrey had been one of the few people to feel pity for Harry. She had told him point blank that there was nothing she could give him to help, and that if it was a spell, it just had to run its course. Harry had pretty much expected that, but he _had_ been surprised when she'd also told him he was more than welcome to use an empty bed to wait out in until the end of the day.

That was until Hermione had stepped in.

"Oh, seriously, Harry," said fluffy nuisance rolled her eyes. "McGonagall is hardly going to care about what you say."

Harry raised his head to give the girl an incredulous look.

"It's not about whether she cares or not!" He said, heatedly. "I was kind of thinking about the other thirty odd people in our class, but pardon me for feeling as though I've humiliated myself enough for one day!"

Hermione snorted, turned a page in her book.

"Just think about _all_ the things you've already said today, Harry," She said easily. "It's unlikely that you're going to embarrass yourself even more than you already have."

Harry's hands curled into the pillow in a death grip as his eyes narrowed.

"That's just the thing, Hermione," he snarled. "I don't _know_ what I've said."

Hermione paused in her reading and flashed Harry a careful smile. She folded the corner of the page she was on neatly and pressed a reassuring hand to her friend's tense forearm.

"It wasn't _that_ bad."

Harry sneered at her and buried his face back into the pillow. Hermione pursed her mouth and leaned back in her chair, opening her book again.

"You're picking up some really unflattering habits from hanging around with Malfoy so much," she muttered.

Harry snorted.

"Well, you never know, Granger," Draco swaggered over, eyes dancing with humour as he pulled the curtain back, nudged Harry over and reclined gracefully beside him on the bed. "Maybe he likes having a little Slytherin inside of him."

"Little is right," Harry grunted, raising his head to glare at the blond. "And I think you'll find that I'm not actually the bottom in this rela—"

"Uh uh uh," Draco pressed an index finger over Harry's mouth. He tilted his head towards Hermione with a wicked smile. "Virgin ears."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Hermione said self-importantly. "The whole point of the matter is that Harry is going to Transfiguration, cursed or not."

Harry swung his head around to retort but Draco stroked a hand down his back, fingertips pushing into the back of Harry's belt as he nuzzled his nose into Harry's arm. Harry spun them around, hands around Draco's wrists as he easily pinned the blond to the bed beneath him. Draco practically purred.

"Stop it," Harry growled.

The blond merely grinned, "Granger's right, you know. You said you'd do this for me, Potter. And besides, you've insulted my manhood and now I feel sad."

He pouted, blinking big silver eyes and Harry was torn between gathering him in his arms and knocking his teeth into the back of his head.

He swallowed heavily and opened his mouth to speak. Draco grinned, tilted his hips up.

"What happened to you being all shy and apologetic?" Harry gasped.

Draco shrugged somewhat awkwardly and wrestled a hand free from Harry's grasp to stroke over Harry's shoulder.

"Everyone already knows we're together now, Potter, there's no need to be demure. They all know about the… sordid things you do to me."

"Bastard."

"Oh, I love it when you talk dirty."

"You bloody—," deep breath. "You're lucky 'Mione's here or I would've—"

"Would've what, Potter? Come on, Harry, tell me."

"I would've…" Harry paused, pupils dilating. "I would've touched you everywhere; would've used my fingers and mouth to open you up. Get you ready for me. Make you want me."

Draco flushed, sent a quick look at Granger who was now staring avidly at a single sentence in her book. He cleared his throat to jerk Harry out of his trance. The dark-haired boy blinked and quickly drew away to sit on the edge of the bed. He narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you even here?" He grumbled.

"I'm the worried boyfriend," Draco said, smoothing his clothes. "I have a right to be wherever I want."

"Liar."

"Pervert."

"Fuck you."

Draco winked, "Oh, I hope so."

"Boys!" Hermione snapped. "Please!"

Harry growled and pushed his glasses up onto his head. He massaged the bridge of his nose with an index finger and thumb. He was going to lose his mind.

"Okay, fine. I'll go to Transfiguration," he looked at Hermione. "It's just… two more lessons, right?"

Draco sat up too, licked a quick stripe over the nape of Harry's neck as he stood.

"My work here is done," he stretched upwards, cracked his neck. "I'm going to lunch. See you in class!"

"Wait!" Harry scrambled to pull his glasses back onto his face, one hand clamped over the back of his neck as his cheeks burned. "What happened to the concerned boyfriend act?"

Draco paused, looking over one shoulder coquettishly as he cocked a hip. "Well, look at it like this, Potter. This way; you get to watch me walk away."

Harry did. Eyes firmly glued to his boyfriend's lovely rear. He waited until it disappeared out the door along with the rest of the annoying Slytherin connected to it before he sighed.

"Prick."

Hermione giggled, eyes alight as she nodded in agreement and casually looked back down at her book.

"He does have a nice arse, though."

"'Mione!"

* * *

 **Transfiguration**

* * *

Harry avoided the Great Hall for lunch and instead decided to take refuge in the kitchens. Hermione followed along happily enough, chatting animatedly about the usefulness of Transfiguration in the modern world and what a big-head Ron was for ignoring Harry in his time of need. Harry was slightly glad for the distraction.

As soon as Harry walked into Transfiguration however, he remembered exactly what it was he was trying to forget and promptly sat at the desk farthest from the front, bag set in his lap. Ron loped in shortly after, and giving his best friend an uneasy, apologetic look, sat a few desks ahead. Harry tried not to feel too insulted.

Hermione smiled sheepishly and patted the chair beside Harry, "Can I sit here?"

"No," Harry grunted.

Hermione turned away, looking offended.

"Sorry," the green-eyed boy amended, massaging his temples. "I just—"

"Hey, sexy," Draco purred, bumping Hermione out of the way with his hip and leaning against the back of the spare chair. "This seat taken?"

Harry jumped and pulled his bag more firmly into his lap.

"For crying out— how are you bloody everywhere?"

Draco shot Hermione a grin and chuckled as he leaned over and curved a hand beneath Harry's chin. "Now that's not very nice, Potter. You say that as though you don't want to see me."

Harry grunted and jerked his chin away, burying his face back into his bag.

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled the seat out beside his boyfriend and sat down, ignoring Hermione's squawk of indignation before she left to sit beside Neville instead.

The blond tilted his head at Harry and drew his bottom lip between his teeth. He seemed unsure of what to say now that Granger had left and taken his bravado with her.

Harry looked over and his eyes softened almost immediately. He moved his bag out of the way and reached out to lace his fingers with the blond's beneath the table. He squeezed gently. Even though he wanted to blame Draco, he found that he really couldn't; especially considering he had pretty much started the whole spell-war himself.

Professor McGonagall swept in mere seconds later as Harry was just about to speak and after giving the class an 'anyhow-you-start-shit-in-here-there'll-be-hell-to-pay' look, she turned away to scribble across the board.

Harry settled for squeezing Draco's fingers gently again.

"Now," Professor McGonagall turned on the spot, glasses flashing as she made eye-contact with each and every student. "Who here— besides Miss. Granger, thank you— can show me the exact wand movements that would be used to transfigure a toothbrush into a hairbrush?"

Seamus raised his hand then chuckled when McGonagall's eyes flicked over to him.

"Harry can," he grinned. "Apparently he's… er… Very good with his _wand_ , Professor."

McGonagall gave the Irish boy a contemptuous look.

"Thank you, Mr. Finnigan," she said brusquely. "But seeing as you are so quick to volunteer others, how about you have a go yourself and let Mr. Potter decide when he'd like to dazzle the class with his wand movements for _himself_?"

Draco snickered from beside Harry and the dark-haired boy felt a smile quirk the corner of his mouth. McGonagall sent him a half smile of her own, and picking up one of the toothbrushes from her desk, she tossed it over to Seamus who caught it easily and set it down before him.

Seamus pouted as he stood from his seat, and squeezing his eyes shut, he swished his wand so violently he sent it sailing off towards a giggling Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil who both screamed at the incoming stick of wood.

McGonagall flicked her own wand lazily and sent Seamus' zooming back into the now red-faced boy's hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Finnigan, for showing everyone how that should not be done," McGonagall's bored voice echoed through the class. "Now, can anyone show me how it should be?"

Harry scanned the classroom noticing ducked heads and averted gazes and chuckled as he turned to murmur something to his boyfriend, only to see Draco rising out of his seat with his free hand raised.

McGonagall managed to cover her surprise quickly and she sent a toothbrush over to Draco who shook his hand from Harry's to pull out his wand. He pointed it at the brush and frowned; eyebrows drawing together as the toothbrush slowly grew and expanded into a handsome wooden hairbrush. He smirked.

"That's hardly an accomplishment!" Seamus shouted from across the room. "He's one of them pretty boys! Of course he'd be able to transfigure a hairbrush! He's always holding one!"

McGonagall sighed, flicked her wand at the Irish boy and smirked at the zip that sprung from her wand and slapped itself over his mouth. Dean cheered.

"Good job, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall nodded approvingly. "Ten points to Slytherin. Do you think you could do it wandlessly as well as non-verbally?"

Draco turned his narrowed gaze from the zipped up Gryffindor to the professor and preened at the praise.

"He can cast a non-verbal lubricant spell," Harry cut in. "Usually I'm far too occupied to remember anything like that. Draco says if I were to bottom, I'd never forget it but I think that if he'd just let me keep my tongue in him long enough without coming, we probably wouldn't even need lube."

Silence.

"That has to be the best one yet!" Seamus unzipped his mouth with a chortle before Dean wrestled to zip it back up.

"Bloody hell," Ron murmured, pressing his hands over his ears, his face the most red it had been all day.

McGonagall ceased movement, jaw slack and eyes wide before she pursed her lips into a thin line.

"It's a spell, Professor," Hermione stood listlessly, clearly tired of being the one to explain everything every lesson. "The same thing happened in Charms… sort of. Perhaps we should've asked for a note – But yes, well, Harry's been cursed or something like it and now he speaks his thoughts, but not all of them, really, only the ones that he thinks about when he's thinking of Malfoy, actually, and—"

"What Granger is trying to say is that Harry says whatever he's thinking aloud because of a curse," Draco simplified.

McGonagall scowled.

"I see. And does anyone know who it was that cursed Potter?" She asked.

A flash of panic flickered through Draco's eyes. Harry stood up too.

"No one knows," he said. "I just woke up like this."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed even more.

"Well, has anyone thought that maybe it'd be wise to let a teacher know beforehand so that Potter could be excused from today's classes?" She asked simply.

Harry looked down.

Hermione cleared her throat.

"I told him to attend lessons, Professor," she said softly. "This being a critical time in our lives, we need all the knowledge we can to succeed in the real world and—"

"Of course you did, Miss. Granger," McGonagall muttered, rubbed a hand over her forehead. "And can I hazard a guess that this won't be the only time this happens today?"

Harry shifted from foot to foot, "well, I've only had one outburst per lesson, so far," he shrugged. "But I don't know if there's an actual limit."

McGonagall sighed and briefly closed her eyes before opening them sharply.

"Right," she drew herself up. "Well, we're all adults here, aren't we, Mr. Finnigan?" She shot the boy a deadly look. "And if Mr. Potter happens to say anything… Non-transfiguration related, we can all ignore it, am I correct?"

The general murmur of agreement and a grumble from a still zipped Seamus seemed to be enough for McGonagall and she clapped her hands together briskly.

"Excellent! Now, very impressive demonstration, Mr. Malfoy! Can anyone else show me another way of doing it?"

* * *

 **Potions**

* * *

Harry sat down heavily in his last class of the day with a feeling close to relief. It was the last lesson of the day! He could've shouted from astronomy tower in glee but he was pretty sure his classmates had already suspected he was losing his mind.

Luckily, though, it appeared as though his outbursts had only been limited to one per lesson. And so even though he spent a few minutes every hour wanting to die of shame, the rest of the lessons had actually felt pretty normal. Kind of.

A squeaky sort of giggling interrupted his spiral into desolation and he glanced up over his glasses, vision blurred but still able to make out the fuzzy forms of Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil as they fidgeted around in front of him. He cocked an eyebrow and they both squealed.

"Oh Harry! I love your spell!" Lavender gushed nudging a giggling Parvati who nodded in agreement. "It's just so romantic how you think all of those things about _Malfoy_ , of all people! We always just assumed he was a sneaky—"

"—lying—"

"—useless—"

"—conniving—"

"—cold-hearted—"

"—stuck-up—"

"—pointy—"

"—git of a—"

"—ferret!"

"But now we know different," Parvati nodded and the two dissolved into giggles again, turning to look at said blond 'git-of-a-ferret' who was currently sat on the opposite side of the classroom and arguing heatedly with a clearly very amused Pansy Parkinson.

"Heh," Harry said.

"Because if only you'd told me that you were gay before, I never would've said all those things about you after the Yule Ball," Parvati added brightly and Harry's brow furrowed.

"What things?"

Lavender flapped a hand. "Unimportant."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked over and slammed her bag down on the desk, smiling as the two girls jumped.

"I think class is starting now," she said, pointedly looking at the empty chairs across the room. "We should all probably take our seats."

Lavender's eyes narrowed a little as she raised her nose in the air and Parvati pursed her mouth, but they both walked away anyway, much to Harry's relief.

"You know I really don't have to be here," Harry muttered, sending his best friend a glance as Hermione unpacked her books. He flinched when she turned to give him a frosty glare.

"Oh, yes you do," she snapped. "Just because McGonagall gave you a note, it doesn't mean you have to use it. This is the last class of the day, Harry, what could possibly happen now that'd be worse than anything you've already said?"

Harry frowned, feeling a familiar spike of irritation ripple through him yet again.

"I've told you that, 'Mione," he ground his teeth. "I don't know. As I've said several times today, I don't know what I've said anyway, so I don't know if what I say next will be better or worse."

Hermione tilted her head to look at him and shrugged before she put her bag on the floor, "let's just say they were all pretty bad," she'd finally seemed to have given up on comforting and reassuring him. Harry curled his hands into fists as he tried to remember the mantra from his primary school that boys shouldn't hit girls.

Slughorn burst in at that exact moment, flushed and beaming and flicked his wand towards the chalkboard before leaning forwards against his desk.

"Good afternoon, students," he grinned. "Today I'm giving you all the choice to make whatever potion you'd like from the list on the board. Obviously, those who choose the more advanced ones will be rewarded with extra credit," he sent Harry a wink. "But you should only attempt the one that you think you'll be able to complete in the time."

"I think we should just go for the easiest," Harry put in, scribbling the list of instructions down onto his parchment. "Just to get it out of the way and…" he trailed off at the stern look Hermione gave him. "I er, I mean we should go for the most difficult?" He back-tracked carefully. "Nice and er, challenging?"

"Oh yes, I quite agree," Hermione smiled placidly. She pulled the piece of parchment from under Harry's quill and neatly shredded it into bits. "Now, I'll write out the proper instructions whilst you go and get the ingredients, yes?"

Harry grunted in understanding and made his way over to the store cupboard. He smiled politely at the other students that passed by with armfuls of the things _he_ needed, and stepped in once it was empty, almost jumping a foot in the air when the door slammed shut behind him.

He spun around with a curse but stopped in his tracks at the sight of Draco stood before him.

"Potter."

Harry eyed him warily, taking a step back as the blond advanced on him. Draco rolled his eyes.

"So maybe I'm feeling a little guilty that you keep humiliating yourself," the blond muttered, hands in his robe pockets, scuffing the stone floor with the toe of one of his disgracefully expensive dragon hide boots. "And since I can't really take the spell off of you, I thought I'd get you by yourself so that you can say all the dirty things you want to say to me... Alone."

Harry raised an eyebrow, disbelief colouring his features.

"Are you being serious?"

Draco grinned, stepped closer and pressed his hands against Harry's chest.

"Actually, I'm being Draco, but yes, I am being truthful."

Harry rolled his eyes, not giving Draco the satisfaction of laughing at his poor, poor joke and the blond grinned.

"Now come on, Potter, tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what's going through that pretty little head of yours whilst you look into my— what was it, ' _melted silver pools'_?"

Harry flushed darkly.

"Is that what I've been saying?" He rasped.

"The best of it," Draco snorted, nipping at the dark-haired boy's bottom lip. "Now, come on, Harry. We don't have long. Tell me. What do you want to do with me?"

Harry sighed playfully and moved his hands to Draco's hips before drawing him into a soft kiss, his tongue nudging past the blond's lips to lick and curl over tongue and teeth. He grunted as his boyfriend all but surrendered to the exploration of his mouth and spun them around, pressing Draco up against the thick wooden door with a thump as he slid one hand down to curl beneath a slender thigh, hitching it up over his own hip to get even closer.

Draco broke the kiss, eyes hazy and moved his hands into Harry's hair. Harry ground his hips forwards, quickly capturing Draco's mouth with his own again as the blond whimpered.

"I want to strip you naked and run my tongue over every inch of your body," Harry purred, breaking the kiss once more. "I'll start with this neck," he closed his mouth over the fluttering pulse beneath the blond's jaw, "your throat, your Adam's apple. I want to curl my tongue into the little dip between your collarbones, suck on your nipples, use my teeth to nip at the soft skin over your ribs."

"Potter…"

"I want to dip my tongue into your navel, bite at the sticky-out parts of your hips, nuzzle my nose into the blond curls around the base of your gorgeous hard-on."

"Sticky-out bits, hard-on?" Draco snorted, opening his mouth to complain about Harry's dirty-talking technique but moaned softly instead as it was filled with Harry's wet, mobile tongue. Harry growled, sliding warm hands up to cradle a pointed jaw before drifting over the blond's neck, smoothing over his shoulders, down his arms. He pulled back to lace one hand with Draco's, squeezing his fingers softly as he used the other hand to skate back up over waist and ribs, before dropping to wrap beneath his thigh again.

"Mmmm," Harry agreed with a grin. He hitched Draco's leg higher, ground his pelvis down harder and flicked the top button of the blond's shirt open to latch onto the prominent line of a clavicle. "I'd use my hands to pull open your long, long legs and I'd spend hours sucking marks into the skin where they meet your torso, the fleshy insides of your thighs."

"Harry," Draco panted, eyes slipping shut as he buried his face into the dark-haired boy's shoulder. His nails pressing through Harry's shirt leaving marks in his skin even through the layers clothes.

"I'd let you put your hands in my hair, guide me to wherever you want me to go, Draco. Where do you want me?"

"I want..."

"Mmh, say it..."

"I want... Ngh... Harry, I _want—_ "

The door behind them suddenly flew open and Harry had to pull the blond close before he tipped backwards onto the concrete. Hermione stood before them, left eye twitching and mouth so thin it almost rivalled McGonagall's. She scowled as she raked a hand through her hair.

"Eight minutes," she hissed. "I've been sat there waiting for eight minutes whilst you've been _arsing_ about in here. The potion had to be started _hours_ ago! Did we not agree we were going to brew the most complex one?"

"Er…"

"'Yes, we did, Hermione.'" The girl poorly imitated Harry, "'I promised to help you out because I know I could _never_ achieve a decent grade in Potions by myself without Snape's old book and especially when all I can think about at the moment is screwing Draco _sodding_ Malfoy into a door!'"

"That's _Professor_ Snape, Granger," Draco interjected with a drawl and Harry quickly let go of him, lest he get caught in the crossfire when Hermione sent an unforgiveable their way.

"You're right, 'Mione," he cut in, quickly pulling down jars and packages of Merlin-knows-what from the surrounding shelves with a nod. "I was totally in the wrong, now let's go back to our table shall we? We can even stay after class."

Hermione paused, nodded back, seemingly mollified. She sent a stern gaze towards the blond but turned away, walking back to the table with her nose in the air.

"See you after class," Harry murmured before pecking a quick kiss to his boyfriend's nose and darting out of the store cupboard.

Draco muttered something insulting behind him, but Harry found that he was more willing to blurt out embarrassing things in class rather than face Hermione's wrath, and when Draco walked back to his own table and decided not to follow, he guessed that that meant the blond felt the same way.

* * *

Crying when one was happy was a severely underrated action, Harry decided, as he felt water spring to his eyes at the final bell of the day. He didn't want to go so far as to say that the relief he felt that the day was finally over was like finding out he could leave the Dursley's forever, but he was pretty sure it was close.

Hermione, bless her heart, had gone into super-ultra-overdrive as soon as they arrived back to the table. And after shouting at Harry for several minutes about N.E.W.T's and boyfriend's and the fact that he had brought over three jars of ingredients that they didn't even need, she settled into her usual frenzied state and completed the potion with minimal help from him. Harry had felt even better when the potion that Ron and Neville had been working on violently exploded and the ginger-haired boy spent the next several minutes hiccuping purple bubbles. It was better than slugs, for one thing, and it served him right for wanting to pair with Neville in the first place.

It also looked as though that little rendezvous he spent with Draco in the store cupboard had been enough to stop him spouting nonsense that lesson. That, and the fact that Hermione had kept him so busy chopping ingredients he barely had any time to think about all the lovely things he wanted to do to Draco— with Draco.

He could tell this by the fact that Seamus had pretty much spent the entire lesson watching him with an open-mouthed smile and glistening eyes, and then ended up looking thoroughly devastated when the final bell rang and Harry hadn't uttered so much as a meep.

And so, after a hearty dinner, a semi heart-to-heart with a still wary Ron and a passionate outburst of something that made all the other students giggle uproariously into their desserts, Harry finally found himself sat outside of Hogwarts and leaning back against a huge tree, his boyfriend firmly planted between his legs.

"I can't believe you actually did that today, Draco," Harry muttered, nuzzling his nose against the blond's temple as he pulled his boyfriend more firmly against his chest, "Hermione's right. You're lucky that I didn't pin you down and screw you stupid."

Draco snorted, eyes slipping closed at the feel of the breeze fluttering through his hair, of Harry's warm, firm body behind him. He was so content that he wouldn't've been surprised if he had started purring. "I don't think she quite said it like that," he muttered, "And you definitely deserved it."

"Oh, really?" The dark-haired boy drew away sounding incredulous, and Draco grinned and twisted his body around to meet glittering green eyes.

"You sucked me off for days on end," he deadpanned. Harry merely preened, clearly proud.

"Some people would be flattered."

"Some people don't play for their houses Quidditch team," Draco pointed out, turning forwards again and leaning back heavily until Harry grunted. "I was so over-sensitive by the end of it, I couldn't sit on a broom for a week."

"Gryffindor would've won anyway," Harry waved the comment away, burying his face into platinum locks as Draco laughed.

"That's hardly the point!"

Harry raised his hand and cupped it beneath Draco's chin, tilting his boyfriend's head back so he could meet metallic silver eyes. The side of his mouth quirked up as he leaned around and kissed the corner of Draco's lips.

"You're completely right," he said, voice full of sincerity. "And I'm very sorry. I'll never give you another blow job again."

The corners of Draco's lips turned down and Harry laughed, expression softening as stroked a thumb over the curve of Draco's jaw.

"You're a real comedian," Draco muttered, deadpan. "I'll be sure to rent out The Three Broomsticks the next time we go to Hogsmede so you can make your comedy debut. You'll make millions."

Harry beamed, manhandled his boyfriend until he was sat practically in his lap, straddling his thighs. He stared into clear silver and couldn't stop the rush of affection that flooded through him.

"You're amazing, Draco," he murmured, "After all the heartache I've experienced over my life; after all the loss, the devastation… I had never imagined that I'd ever find anyone in the world that would want to be around me just for me; for just being _Harry_ and then I found _you_.

"You make me feel things that I have never felt before; make me want to do the impossible and the ridiculous and then brag about it just to see you smile. You make me want to kiss you in front of everyone, take you out to restaurants and do all that romantic stuff that I never imagined I want with anyone. You mean _so_ bloody much to me, and I don't know what to do because I'm terrified that you might change your mind one day and decide that maybe this isn't all worth it after all.

"I know you've received howlers and hate-mail since we came out. I know that people still don't treat you right but I promise you that one day they will. One day, when we properly graduate, I'm going to take your hand and walk straight down the middle of Diagon Alley with you and no-one is going to say a thing as I sweep you into my arms and kiss you like you've never been kissed before.

"When we first started all of this, I spent ages believing that I wasn't worthy of you. That I could never actually deserve you... And then I remembered that there is no one in this entire world that could ever love you more than I do… And I knew from then, that you would always be the one I'd choose to go on this crazy adventure with. That I would always be yours; your Potter, your _Harry_."

Draco blinked back the stinging in his eyes; heart thumping hard against his rib cage as one corner of his mouth turned upwards faintly.

"You really are a sentimental son-of-a-bitch, aren't you, Potter?" He choked out and Harry's brow furrowed momentarily before he grinned.

"Maybe, what did I say?"

Draco snorted, brushed a hair from the lightning bolt scar on his boyfriend's head and pulled him down for a soul-searching kiss.

"Nothing, Potter," he whispered against his mouth. "You didn't say anything at all."

 ***fancy swirly writing* THE END.**

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Thank you so much for making it this far! I hope you enjoyed it. :)


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